The Nature of a Woman: A Novel

By Sylvester Stephens

An intriguing psychological journey filled with memorable cameos of characters from The Office Girls, unforgettable erotic encounters and a twisted yet realistic story line.

Psychologist Dr. Johnny Forrester is a former sex addict and brother to Michael Forrester, the steamy protagonist from Sylvester Stephens's previous bestseller The Office Girls. Desperate to understand the minds of his five severely disturbed female patients and validate himself as a doctor, Johnny repeatedly violates the sacred boundary that protects the doctor-patient relationship.

He becomes emotionally involved with a woman accused of abusing her child and tolerates her blatant manipulation of him. Then he allows another patient, a Pulitzer Prize-winner and Nobel Prize laureate, to take him under her wing as her submissive protégé. Most shockingly, he has an adulterous affair with one of his lusty female patients. When two of these women are murdered—including his lover—Johnny is implicated in some serious trouble, and Michael turns up to help his bewildered brother.

The Nature of a Woman is a suspenseful psychological journey into the minds and souls of women diagnosed with mental disorders and the mental clinicians who treat them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strebor Books
• Release date: Mar 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781416597247

Sylvester Stephens

Sylvester Stephens is an author and playwright who performs motivational speaking engagements to motivate youths and encourage literary awareness. His books include Butterfly, Our Time Has Come, The Nature of a Man, The Nature of a Woman, and The Office Girls. He lives in Atlanta, Georgia.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Johnson Forrester. I am a former National Football League player. Today, I have a bachelor’s degree in business management, a master’s degree in sociology, and a doctorate degree in psychology. As a psychologist, I specialize in the emotional, behavioral and mental processes of the human psyche. Until recently, I had been a mental health clinician for the prison system. I have analyzed hundreds of men, both during their incarceration and their transition from prisoner to citizen.

Having achieved a respectful career in my field, I was encouraged by my mentor, Dr. Warren Glover, to start my private practice. He had recently retired and wanted to leave the mental health care of his newest patients in the hands of someone he trusted. Building a trusting relationship with new patients in the field of psychology is very important to the growth of their willingness to communicate. Dr. Glover thought I would be a perfect fit.

Taking Dr. Glover’s advice, I started my own private practice in the city of Atlanta, Georgia. Atlanta wasn’t far from the prison I was working for, and I needed to branch off and expand my career. Not to mention, I also had family in the area.

I was initially apprehensive because I wasn’t just opening a new office, I was beginning a new type of practice altogether. Assuming responsibility for Dr. Glover’s old patients meant that my new patients would be women and women only. Having never had female patients on a consistent basis, my familiarity with the female psyche was undetermined. I contemplated the probability of being unsuccessful but failure was not an option for me. Failure could mean losing my professional reputation, God forbid, wiping out my life’s savings.

Getting my practice up and running was more challenging than I had anticipated but where there’s a will, there’s a way. My wife and friends helped where they could and, before I knew it, I was standing in my office staring at my degrees on the wall.

I reminisced over the years it had taken me to arrive at this point, the disappointments, the extremely hard work, and then I smiled. Because in the end, the final step of your journey is what it’s all about. It’s not about the road you’ve traveled, because life doesn’t allow you to turn around and go back. It’s about your final destination. It’s about where your life ends up.

Ironically, my journey to becoming a psychologist began on the couch and not in the classroom. Earlier in my life, I was diagnosed and treated for erotomania. It is more commonly known as nymphomania. Erotomania is a psychological disorder marked by the delusional belief that one is the object of another person’s love or sexual desire.

Looking back on my youth, my behavior had all the signs of being emotionally disturbed. Not insane, but disturbed. I had an unusual desire to be accepted and loved by other people. That need for someone else’s approval made me lack confidence throughout my life.

My first experience with confidence came when I was fifteen years old and I had my first sexual encounter. I was a sophomore playing football on the varsity team. I didn’t get a lot of playing time, but to be the only player who was not a junior or senior brought me a lot of attention.

One day after practice, my girlfriend Regina and I were walking home. She was a junior, so I was quite proud to be dating an older woman, so to speak. We went over to her house to hang out. Her parents worked in the plant so they were never home until the late evening. We listened to music and then wrestled, but nothing serious.

That particular afternoon, we went further than usual. We were lying on Regina’s bed and started to kiss. She was using a lot of tongue, something I wasn’t used to doing. It felt good, so I thought what the hell? During our friendly wrestling match, I positioned myself between her legs and we started to grind. Regina closed her eyes and began to moan rather loudly. She slid her hand between my legs and squeezed my manhood.

Take it out, Regina said.

Take what out? I said.

Your thang, I wanna see it.

Huh?

Take your thang out, I wanna see it.

You take it out, I replied.

Okay.

Regina had always told me she was a virgin. The football team always told me she wasn’t. Some admitted that it was hearsay; others claimed it was firsthand experience. Judging by my experience with her, she was not a virgin but an expert.

Take your clothes off, Johnny, Regina said.

Why?

Just take your clothes off!

Hold on, I said, standing to remove my clothes.

After I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my shirt, Regina unbuckled my pants and snatched them to the floor. She had already stripped herself of her clothing and was waiting for me to join her in the bed.

Come on, Regina said, pushing her linen to the side and opening her legs. I’m ready, come on.

That was not the fantasy I had envisioned, but I couldn’t afford to let this opportunity to lose my virginity get away. I thought that it would be my passage to manhood.

Don’t I need a rubber or something? I asked.

Naw, boy, if you pull it out I can’t get pregnant.

You sure? I asked.

Yeah, come on. Put it in.

Okay, I said, grabbing my manhood and then trying to push it in. Ouch!

What happened?

It hurts! It won’t go in.

That’s my thigh! Regina said. Move your hand, let me do it.

Regina grabbed my manhood and guided it in.

Ah, Regina said, grabbing my ass.

She kept moaning and talking incoherently. I didn’t say a word because it felt kind of weird. It didn’t feel the way I had imagined. I was expecting a euphoric sensation but it was wet and uncomfortable. However, it must have felt pretty darn good to Regina because she seemed to enjoy herself.

She kept moving her hips and moaning, and I kept pumping. Her moans became louder and my pumping became faster. I assumed she reached her orgasm because she started to scream and her body began to jerk. She pulled my face to hers and rammed her tongue down my throat. I thought to myself, DAMN! This is a grown-ass woman!

Keep going! Keep going! Regina said.

Following Regina’s instruction, I kept going. The feeling was okay, but nothing that made me want to moan. And then all of a sudden, I felt this sensation at the base of my manhood. My arms started to shake. My eyes rolled back in my head. And like a volcano, that unbelievable sensation shot up my manhood and out through its head.

OH! I shouted, collapsing on top of Regina.

See! Regina said, trying to squeeze out every drop of juice that I had. This feels good, huh?

I heard Regina asking me a question, but I couldn’t answer. My orgasm felt even better in real life than it had in my dreams. When I could finally answer, all I could say was, I love you.

I love you, too, Regina said.

Of course we didn’t love each other, but it felt great to say it to one another. Regina and I had sex a few more times over the next year or so, and each time we said to the other, I love you. I guess I knew she didn’t love me, but at least I was getting the attention I wanted.

I coined that terminology as my own and that became my method of operation. I would make love, and when I had my orgasm, tell each woman I loved her. If she said it back, fine, if she didn’t, fine. Actually, my avowal of affection was always reciprocated. Even with my one-night-stands.

As I got older, my sexual desire became stronger and I experimented more. Traditional sex became boring to me. I didn’t want to be in a monogamous relationship so I dated married women or women who were in other relationships. I fulfilled the desires their husbands and boyfriends did not. I became their fantasies, telling them I loved them and giving them the attention they wanted and needed. I was attentive and sensitive.

One married woman finally decided to leave her husband after we had been seeing each other for years. I didn’t break up her marriage. She was seeing another guy at work and her husband found out. She told me she had feelings for her lover, but she thought I would try to compete with him for her affections. I told her that if she cared for her lover, he should be her choice.

Her pride wouldn’t allow her to say it, but she was disappointed that I wasn’t ready to fight for her. She tried to insult me by saying I was happy with always being the other man. I let her know that I wasn’t the "other man;" I was actually the man. I was having sex with her without having to deal with her annoying spoiled rants. As far as I was concerned, once she became available, her value to me diminished.

After I became bored with attached women, I decided to delve into one-night-stands. The thrill of telling a woman I loved her on the first night we met was a turn-on. And hearing her tell me she loved me back, even though I knew it was bullshit, intensified my orgasms.

Which brings me to Yvonne. I met Yvonne one night when I was on a date with another woman. Yvonne had a light complexion, very smooth with no blemishes. Her hair was long and curly. She had a thin shape, not much hips. Her eyes were big and she had long eyelashes that accentuated them.

As I was dancing with my date, Yvonne waved at me. Her friends pointed to her and then me while I was on the dance floor, making Yvonne’s intention obvious. When I sat down, she wrote her telephone number on a piece of paper and passed it around five tables to get to me. My date never had a clue.

Eventually, I called her and we hit it off. We didn’t live in the same city so it took a while before we had our first date. One week, her job sent her to town for training. We made plans to meet on her last night. We went out to eat and then back to her hotel room. It was late so we didn’t pretend that we were not going to make love.

We kissed for a while and then took off all of our clothes. We kissed and then Yvonne rolled on her back. I was a passionate lover and I was expecting Yvonne to be passionate. She was, but she didn’t want a lot of foreplay. We had sex in the missionary position only, but that was all we needed. It lasted for a long time and, if I must say so myself, pound-for-pound, I would rank her as one of my best sexual experiences.

I enjoyed myself so much that I went against my one-night-stand rule. The next day, I packed an overnight bag and drove an hour and a half to her house to spend the night. I was going to make love to her all night, get up the next morning two hours earlier than usual, and go directly to work.

When I arrived at her house, she told me to place my bag in her bedroom. As I was changing from my work attire to my casual gear, Yvonne received a telephone call. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I assumed it was private when she stepped outside to her porch. Giving her privacy, I stayed in her bedroom until I heard her come back in the house.

Did you get settled in? Yvonne asked.

Oh, yeah, I said.

Oh, Yvonne said, one of my friends is going to be stopping by.

I remembered her friends from the nightclub, and from my recollection, they were fine as hell. I began to fantasize about having Yvonne and one of her friends at the same time. That would have certainly made the drive down worthwhile.

Yvonne paced back and forth from the living room where I was sitting to her front door. Finally, her friend pulled into the driveway. Yvonne stood at the door and waited for her to get out. I peeked out of the window to see which one it was, but I closed the curtain when I realized she would see me looking out.

All of a sudden, Yvonne walked into the living room and said nervously, If my friend asks who you are, tell him you my cousin, Johnny, from New Jersey, okay?

What?

Just say you my cousin! Yvonne demanded.

Yvonne walked to the door and opened it. A tall older gentleman walked in and kissed her. I didn’t know what type of freaky shit Yvonne had in mind, but I was not going to be a part of it.

Hey, Alton, Yvonne said, pointing to me. This is my cousin, Johnny from New Jersey.

Hey, Johnny, Alton said, looking at me suspiciously.

Johnny, Yvonne said, This is my friend, Alton.

Your friend? Alton asked.

What’s up, man? I said.

Can I talk to you for a second, Yvonne? Alton asked.

Yeah, let’s go back here. Yvonne walked toward the bedroom.

They went into Yvonne’s bedroom and started to scream at the top of their lungs. Alton did most of the screaming. They became quiet and then walked out as if nothing had happened.

Well, Alton’s getting ready to go, Yvonne said, walking him to the door.

I ain’t going nowhere, Alton said.

Yes you are! Yvonne said.

Watch and see.

Alton! Would you leave?

You want me to leave, huh?

Please, Yvonne said. I will call you later.

I’ll leave, but I want to talk to you first.

Okay, Alton. I’ll be right back, Johnny. I’m going to walk him to the car.

They walked outside and I sat in the living room. It was taking a while for Yvonne to walk back into the house so I peeked outside the window to see what was going on. Alton was yelling and going into his trunk. I didn’t know what he was going in his trunk to get, but I’d be damned if I sat around and waited. I calmly went into the bedroom and got my bag and then walked outside to my car. Yvonne left Alton and ran over to my car.

Don’t leave, Johnny! Yvonne said.

I think it would be better if I left.

He’s getting ready to leave.

I ain’t goin’ no dam’ where! Alton shouted.

I think you need to talk to your friend over there, I said.

Let me get you something to drink before you leave.

Okay, I said, sitting in my truck.

I’ll be right back, Yvonne said, running into her house.

When Yvonne slammed her door behind her, Alton started to walk toward me. I didn’t know what he wanted so I got out of my car.

What’s up, man? I said.

Hey, bro, Alton said. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I ain’t tryin’ to start no shit wit’ you, man, I just want the truth. That’s all I want! Yvonne ain’t yo’ cousin, is she?

You have to ask her that, man.

Come on, man, Alton said, looking as if he was about to cry. I love that woman, bro! Do you?

Again, I replied. You need to talk to her, man.

Bro! Alton said, looking very angry. This is killin’ me! Just tell me the truth! Please!

I was saved by the bell when Yvonne walked out with a can of Sprite in her hand.

Here you go! Yvonne handed me the can.

Thanks! I said, climbing back into my truck.

You don’t have to leave, Johnny. He’s getting ready to go.

Yes, I do, I said. You two need to talk, Yvonne. Obviously, there’s a big misunderstanding.

It ain’t no misunderstanding. Alton needs to go!

I told you, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Alton said.

Well, I am, I said. I’ll talk to you later, Yvonne.

Okay, but I really wish you would stay.

Take care, I said.

I drove the hour and a half back home prepared to take a cold shower. When I checked my voicemail I had three frantic messages from Yvonne. From what I could decipher, someone had been shot and she was at the hospital. She called the next day and explained what had happened.

Hey, Johnny, Yvonne said.

What were those voicemails all about?

Oh my God! Yvonne said. After you left, Alton pulled his gun out of his trunk and put it to my head!

What? I asked. Are you serious?

Yeah! He told me he couldn’t live without me and if he couldn’t have me, nobody could!

What happened?

He said he couldn’t hurt me, so he pointed the gun at his chest and then pulled the trigger!

He shot himself?

Yeah! Right there in my front yard!

Is he okay?

He’s on life support right now! Yvonne said. They don’t think he gon’ make it!

Wow!

I went to the hospital with him and then I had to leave before his wife got there. But the last thing I heard, he wasn’t doing too well.

His wife? I asked.

Yeah, he’s married.

Hold on, I said. That man tried to kill himself because he didn’t want his mistress to be with anyone else?

I guess.

He’s a fool!

Johnny, Yvonne said, I need you to come down here and be with me.

You can’t be serious?

I need you.

You could have gotten me killed!

He wasn’t going to hurt you, Johnny, Yvonne said. He never tried to hurt me or the guy, it’s always him.

Bye!

Johnny, please don’t hang up! Yvonne said. You said you loved me!

Bye, Yvonne!

I love you, Johnny!

BYE! I shouted.

I hung up the phone and decided that one-night-stands were no longer my cup of tea. After that, I thought I would try the monogamy thing for a while. I tried desperately to maintain a monogamous relationship, but whenever I met a woman, we would have sex immediately. The thrill of monogamy would be gone and I would move to my next monogamous relationship. During the course of one week, I had five monogamous relationships, and all were sexual. My last go at monogamy was with a young lady named Ariana.

She was born in Brazil but raised in the United States. She was about five feet four inches tall with long, jet-black hair. She had beautiful, brown skin, toned legs and a nice round ass like a black woman.

Ariana spoke Portuguese and English fluently. I spoke Spanish a little, but not Portuguese. I really didn’t care if I knew what she was saying or not—just to hear her speak a foreign language in the midst of hot sex was a turn-on.

We talked on the telephone every day for a month. I convinced her that we had known each other long enough to commit to one another. She agreed and we decided to meet at an international nightclub.

Ariana and I had a ball bumping and grinding against each other. We danced practically all night long. After we left the club, I asked Ariana to come back to my house. She thought I was being presumptuous and rejected my offer. Not wanting the night to end, I suggested a five-star hotel. I don’t know if making love in a hotel was more virtuous than making love in my house, but she agreed.

I left my car at the nightclub and rode with Ariana. When we got to the hotel we took our clothes off and stepped into the shower. I lathered Ariana’s body from head to toe and then she turned around and lathered me. My manhood was standing at full attention, sticking out like a shotgun. Ariana took her time and massaged it from the head to the base. Her hands felt so soft as she squeezed it lightly from top to bottom.

I sucked her hard nipples, which protruded from her breasts. The steam from the shower filled the bathroom with seductive smoke that increased the sexual tension between us. Our bodies fell against the wall of the shower as our cleanliness turned to nastiness. We kissed and fondled until we couldn’t take it anymore.

Come on, Ariana said, taking me by the hand.

We fell on the bed, wet and sudsy. Our bodies were slippery as we rubbed against each other. Ariana opened her legs and grabbed my manhood.

"Oh, Papi, it’s so big!" Ariana said.

You like that?

"Oh, si, Ariana said. But I don’t know if I can take it all."

I’ll be gentle, I said, assuming that being gentle meant going slowly.

Ariana and I had wild and crazy sex that night. When the sun was coming up, we were still having sex. That hot Latina kept me up all night. I mean that literally and figuratively. But all good things must come to an end. I had an unwritten rule that daylight would greet me alone. Spending the night with a woman was fine, but waking up with a woman was against the rules.

Even though Ariana and I didn’t go to sleep, the rule still applied. I had to hurry and have my orgasm and get the hell out of that hotel room before the sun turned me into a pile of dust.

I’m about to blow, baby! I shouted.

"Oh, si! Ariana shouted, moving her sweaty legs up and down the back of my legs like a frog. Oh, si! Oh, si!"

Oh shit!

"Oh, si, Papi!" Ariana shouted. Shit!

Ariana’s Spanglish was turning me on. I was stroking so deep it felt like I was inside of her stomach. I twirled her hair in my fingers and pulled her head backward to look her in the eyes.

You like that? I said, stroking even deeper.

Mucho gusto! Ariana screamed. Mucho gusto!

Oh shit, I’m coming! I shouted. Oh God, I love you, baby!

"I love you, too, Papi!" Ariana screamed in my ear.

I reached beneath Ariana and palmed her ass in my hands. I lifted her off the bed, she wrapped her legs around my waist and I pounded her until I was completely spent.

"Oh, Papi!" Ariana said, breathing very hard.

I turned on my back and tried to catch my breath. Ariana climbed on top of me and kissed my chest and neck.

Oh, Johnny! Ariana said. I love you so much!

Okay.

Okay? Ariana lifted her head and looked at me in the face. What does that mean, okay?

You said you loved me and I said okay.

Okay! Now I got it! Ariana jumped off the bed and started putting on her clothes. When you were between my legs you were in love with me, but now that you got what you wanted, you don’t love me no more, huh?

Calm down, Ariana.

You men are all alike! Ariana walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Ariana stayed in the bathroom a while and when she finally stormed out she was fully dressed and headed straight for the door. I thought to myself, if she had her clothes on, then whose clothes did she have in her hands?

I rolled over to the other side of the bed to look on the floor for my clothes, and they were gone. Ariana sped up her trot and ran out of the door before I could catch her. I wrapped the comforter around my waist and stood in the doorway screaming for her to come back.

ARIANA! I yelled. Bring my damn clothes back!

I stood there waiting, but she didn’t return. My first thought was to sneak to my car and get out of there, but I didn’t have my car. Not only that, I didn’t have my keys or my wallet.

Damn! I said, slamming the door and sitting on the bed.

I was forced to call one of my college buddies and have him bring me some clothes. Of course, he brought along more of the guys and they ragged me all the way home.

I called Ariana all day long and she refused to answer. I didn’t know where she lived or where she worked. My only means of contact was her telephone number. Oh, I begged and pleaded so much she eventually felt sorry for me and told me to come get my shit.

I called some of my friends and we rode five deep to Ariana’s house. I had my friend Tommy drive, because my nerves were a little shaken. Oh, I went in all by myself, but I told my boy to keep the car running. Just in case.

Hey, Ariana, I said. I’m sorry if you misunderstood me this morning.

I don’t think I misunderstood you, Johnny.

I really care about you, Ariana, I really do.

Whateva! Ariana responded. Just get your shit and get the hell out of my house, okay?

Okay. I reached for my keys and wallet, which she was holding in her hands.

Hold on one second, mister! Ariana said. You think you can play with women’s emotions and get what you want and then drop them like a hot potato, don’t you?

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said, still holding my hand out.

You are a selfish, mean, rude pig! Ariana said. Here!

Ariana slammed my keys into my hands. I could have just walked off and left things as they were, but I couldn’t. I was pissed off and I wanted her to know she was wrong.

Maybe the next time you should know a man longer than a month before you have sex with him, I said. Maybe then, you won’t be so disappointed when you find out that’s all he wanted.

What? Ariana asked. What did you just say to me?

Look, I said, sensing homicidal anger. I think it’s best if I leave.

No! Ariana said, running to the back. No, you stay right there, mister!

Oh shit!

I ran out of her house and jumped in the backseat of the truck.

Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! I shouted.

What’s up? Tommy shouted.

Man, just go! I yelled. She’s getting a gun!

Tommy sped off as Ariana was running to my truck with a gun in her hands, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Man, what you do to that chick? Tommy shouted.

Nothing man, just go! I shouted, ducking as much as I could beneath the dashboard.

We sped away and I considered it to be another unfortunate incident with a woman. I never gave it a second thought.

CHAPTER TWO

Monogamy and I didn’t mesh, so I wanted to explore my wild side. I wanted to try an alternative lifestyle. The pleasure of having sex with women just for the sake of having sex was no longer a challenge for me. I knew what to say to the groupies for a one-night stand if I was in the mood. I knew what to say to women in relationships who had to make it seem as if they were having problems with their husbands or boyfriends. And I knew what to say to single women looking for a relationship. I told them all the same thing, or made them think the same thing: I loved them.

I had mastered the art of communication with women. Once I realized what type of man the object of my affection fantasized about having, I listened, studied, and became that man. I knew eventually I would disappoint them but my objective was to make love, not friends.

I felt no guilt! No sympathy! Nothing! It was not my fault that women could not accept men for being men. They had to make us into unrealistic fantasies. So, I became that fantasy.

As I said, my next thrill would be an alternative lifestyle. I wanted to explore the world of homosexuality. I know what you’re thinking, but hell no! I wasn’t referring to me and another man. I wanted to make love to a lesbian. I felt that had to be the ultimate challenge.

Playing in the National Football League had its advantages. My fame attracted those who may not normally be attracted to me. For example, Trinity. I met her at a sports bar, a gay and lesbian sports bar called The Ass Bar and Grille. I went with a bisexual friend of mine, Greta, who had told me it might be a great place to pick up a male-curious lesbian.

We sat at the bar for a long time just chatting with each other. Trinity and her girlfriend walked in and sat beside us. My lesbian friend, Greta, who was actually bisexual, pointed them out. Greta was a six-foot, blonde bombshell from Sweden. She had endless long legs, huge firm breasts and deep blue eyes. She was an international model introduced to me at a celebrity party in New York.

She and I met and had sex during my one-night-stand phase. She was one of the few who actually understood the terminology of a one-night stand. Because she was bisexual, and not totally homosexual, she didn’t count. She did teach me how to properly perform oral relations on a woman. It was like a class. Lights on, visual presentation, and then the oral test for my final grade. It was given on her, so she was happy with her teaching and my learning skills. Greta taught me to be passionate, patient, and unselfish.

Although Greta was a wonderful experience, I needed a bona fide, woman-only lesbian to satisfy my desire. The way Trinity was swinging on her girlfriend’s arm, she had to be a straight lesbian, so to speak. And boy, was she gorgeous!

Greta got their attention and invited them to come over and drink on our tab. Who turns down free booze? They joined us and we hit it off. They were familiar with who I was and knew plenty about football.

I can’t believe I’m talking to Johnny Forrester! Trinity said.

Trinity was white, with brunette hair and a tight, fit body. She had to be a former athlete. That body couldn’t have been natural. Her girlfriend, June, wasn’t bad looking, either. The more we talked as a group, the more our conversations became one on one. June and Greta had their own conversation and Trinity and I had ours.

Trinity was a financial advisor and that was our excuse to swap telephone numbers. I asked her a lot of personal questions. She made it perfectly clear that she was happy with June and our relationship would be strictly business. She also told me she had never been with a man and had no interest in being with another one.

She kept her word until I told her I was falling in love with her. I used her logic against her. She told me on one occasion that love shouldn’t be restricted to men and women. Love should be shared between two people who love each other, regardless of the gender. I told her that she was being hypocritical because she would not allow herself to love me because I was a man. I finally got through to her and she started to have feelings for me.

I asked Trinity why she loved June so much. She told me June was very attentive, very passionate and understanding. This was the same information other women had